


The Lamentation of Emperor Lotor

by sadisticnarwhals



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 02:45:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14946126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadisticnarwhals/pseuds/sadisticnarwhals
Summary: Okay so season 6 of Voltron really destroyed me and I can not deal with Lotor's character arc so here is some sort of redemption?





	The Lamentation of Emperor Lotor

Everything was too loud, everything was too quiet. His head hurt, after all, he had just taken a massive surge of energy and could still feel it coursing through his body. He opened his eyes and was immediately blinded by the bright unnatural light of the quintessence. He had succeeded yet he had failed. He had succeeded in entering the realm of infinite power, the biggest of his achievements in all of his 10,000 years of life. But he had also failed so spectacularly. He was alone, left to die by his friends, floating in this primordial sea of light. It had already begun healing him, making him stronger than he had ever been. This new power flowing through his veins was intoxicating, giving him amounts of might he had never known before. He knew better than anyone else that he was not on the path to virtue nor were all his actions good in nature, but he knew that he was strong. He had all of his weakness removed from him, whether it be by physical force from his father or by dark magic by Haggar… Honerva… his mother… 

His head hurt even more. He could not shake the feeling of unease with this new discovery. He had spent his youth patronising his mother, believing that she had died rather than letting herself become corrupted, just as he was prepared to do. But instead, she had become worse than his father. If Honerva, uniter of two empires, the matron of Altaen alchemical practices, did not have the strength in her to die, then what made him think he could. He was not foolish, he knew that his exploration may very well lead to him becoming a horrid combination of both his father and Haggar, which even admitting made his feel sick. He had spent his whole life trying to prove that he was different, better, than his father and would not give up now. He knew that now, alone and isolated in the void of absolute power, he was changing. But unlike his spineless parents, he would not become evil. 

He had also spent his life studying all forms of magic and the quintessence. He was better prepared than they had been. He knew that the power of quintessence did not corrupt as many had thought, but rather it amplifies all the qualities already within. His father, the tyrannical Emperor Zarkon, might have once been noble and great, but even then, he had sought the embrace of power too much. Lotor would not let his dark tendencies win, regardless of what everyone thought, of what Princess Allura thought. 

The memory of Allura sent waves of a different pain through his body, one that even this realm could not heal. He had loved her, he loved her still. She was the first and only person to ever see him as someone other than the son of the evil Emperor Zarkon, yet it had not been enough. He had been deprived of love for so long that as soon as he had glimpsed it, he became fixated on it. His plan originally had been to manipulate her and all the other paladins of Voltron to do his bidding and he was so close to success, but he could not manage to distance himself emotionally from them. There was something so magical, so foreign, about them. They exuded an air of optimism, despite all the issues and hardships they had faced. They all had a sense of ease about them, totally converse to the overly efficient, stressful aura of the Galra. The little time he had spent on the Castle of Lions had been one of the best of his entire existence, despite the wary distant way that he had been regarded with. 

He knew that he had done terrible things, unspeakable things, however, he worked in the name of the greater good. All great empires and kingdoms were built on the back of dark events, even the beloved peace faring Altaea. He was the only one who would face the truth and for that he got labelled a monster and abandoned. 

He blinked back tears as he reminisced about his life. Ever since birth, he had been not only expected, but obligated to be great. There was no aspect of him that was allowed to be anything less than perfect. He had all of his weaknesses removed from him as soon as they showed. His father had tried to beat the empathy and compassion out of him when he was young. When it did not work, he gave him to the Druids to experiment on. Though the technology of Galra healing pods had removed much of the scarring, he could still remember the pain of the years he spent in their laboratories. That was the extent of his relationship with Zarkon. The reason why he was the best swordsman in the whole empire was not because of talent, but rather as a result of endless practice. He had spent a large portion of his childhood in the area, fighting skilled swordsmen to the death. He couldn’t even remember how many times he had fought nor how many he had killed. After a while, his father had lost interest in him and cast him aside to a faraway planet where other ‘half-breeds’ were exiled to. There he met his generals. Even they had betrayed him. 

Ever since the start, he knew that he would never become a monster like his father so he embraced his Altaen ancestry. He saved their race against all Galra rules. So what if he killed some of them? Without him, none, save for Allura and Coran would still exist. He knew that his actions were not always morally just, but he always worked for the greater good. He did not want to resort to having to kill, but peace would not work. Only through research and experimentation could he come close to liberating the whole race. He was willing to sacrifice some in order to protect the majority. He would not let anything get in the way of his end goal. This was the way his father’s people lived, victory or death. He could not live any other way. He would not live any other way.

The quintessence had nearly finished healing his body. His mind felt clearer than ever, yet he could not find the will to keep going. He had tried so hard to do good, to erase his father’s tyranny, yet no one would think of him in any other way. They called him a monster. Slowly everyone in his life had forsaken him and left. He did not remember how many times the people who were supposed to love him had tried to kill him. In a way, he expected Allura to do what she had done but yet he still felt surprised when she turned out to be the same as the others. This was the last straw. Perhaps he was truly unlovable, perhaps he was just as bad as his father. He had tried so very hard to be better. He had done some good, but that had not proven to be enough. He was just so tired. The quintessence filled his veins with power, yet he did not feel satisfied. His whole life’s work was so close to being complete, yet he did not feel happy. He didn’t feel anything but sorrow and lament. 

He used his newfound power to melt his ship back into the quintessence. Direct exposure to power in its most pure form began to burn his skin and he welcomed the familiarity of pain. Victory or death, and in the end he had chosen death. He felt strangely at peace as the last of his lifeblood drained away. He smiled softly as his body began to crystallise. He felt so free, so lucid. Quietly and alone, he walked into the dark peaceful embrace of death. He was free at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi  
> Sorry if there are inaccuracies, this is my first fanfic  
> Follow me on Tumblr, my name is sadisticnarwhals  
> :)


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